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Rajaion's Revelation:Chapter Three
Disclaimer I do not own Fire Emblem, and if I did this would be an actual scene. Author's Note: Introduction Once again, not much intro needed. Just finish reading! I'm not quite sure how to end this. That's what I particularly need help with, here. Chapter Body Meanwhile, the assembled political leaders from all across Tellius were still gathered in Rajaion’s guest room. They had nowhere else they needed to be, so they simply sat ranged about the sitting area in the corner of the room, talking quietly so as to let the black dragon rest. Before he fell asleep, the Goldoan prince had answered their obvious questions, explaining that it was customary for black dragons to have markings on their foreheads, and that he distinctly remembered the one displayed on the child that Ashnard flaunted in front of him. He was certain that it was the same mark he saw on Soren. And the other leaders had to agree: Soren certainly held enough of a family resemblance to Rajaion. “I always thought he was a Spirit Charmer,” whispered Elincia, “Not a…” “Parentless,” Ranulf finished. “I knew. We can smell the mixed blood. No way to smell which tribe, though…” Naesala’s lips quirked up in an ironic smile. “You know, it’s almost comical. Ashnard wanted a child with the power of the dragons, but when he got it, he threw it away. And then the kid came back to destroy his whole kingdom and all of his well-laid plans.” “Children of such unions, if they survive to adulthood, are almost always extraordinarily gifted.” Giffca offered. “They often become the most feared warriors of their time. That is why it is said that the birth of a Parentless hastens the end of the world by a hundred years.” “But Soren ended the war. He did it as quickly as possible, so that it wouldn’t turn into a continent-wide war and trigger Lehran’s Medallion.” Elincia pointed out faithfully. The lion shrugged. “It is only a legend.” Then Tanith saw fit to interpose: “We must consider the political implications. Up until now, we have been operating under the assumption that King Daein had no heirs.” “True,” Tibarn agreed. He turned to address Elincia: “What are you going to do about it?” The new Queen looked around in surprise. “Me? What am I supposed to do?” Bastian loyally stepped up to remind his queen of her responsibilities. “Our noble Crimea has taken credit for the conquering of treacherous Daein. As its ruler, you could keep the territory as the spoils of war, give up sovereignty to one of your allies as recompense, or, as we now discover, restore its rightful heir to the throne.” “Oh,” Elincia replied sheepishly. “I haven’t really thought about it yet.” “There would be a certain benefit to granting Daein’s freedom with your friend on the throne,” Reyson pointed out. “That’s true,” the Crimean queen agreed. “And after all he’s done to win this war for me, it really wouldn’t be fair of me to deny him his birthright.” “I highly doubt he thinks of it as his birthright.” Tibarn volunteered. “He was never raised with the idea that the country would one day be his. It was never his intention to conquer Daein for any purpose other than the tactical necessity, I believe.” “Right,” the heron prince assented. “I never caught any malicious vibes from him.” Leanne burbled something in the ancient language, and her brother translated, “Leanne didn’t pick up on anything either.” “Regardless,” Elincia continued, “I was not raised thinking that I would inherit the throne, but with no one else to claim it, it still falls to me. Even though he never knew about it until now, Soren is still the only one left to claim the Daein crown.” “Begging your pardon, Queen Elincia,” Tanith responded, “but he’s not the only one who could rule Daein. As Count Fayre has said, any of your allied nations could justify taking over control of the country. I know that Begnion has the resources to send a governor—” Tibarn cut her off with a motion of his hand. “Quiet. This is not the time for your ambitions of imperial expansion. The matter is Queen Elincia’s to decide.” The queen in question spoke up. “General Tanith, I do appreciate your input, and I am very grateful for Begnion’s support, as you know. But I do honestly feel that the throne should be Soren’s, if he so desires. If not, then I will decide on a different course later.” With this declaration, the conversation amongst the group simmered down again, and they chatted quietly—for one does not wish to disturb a sleeping dragon—about various other war-related matters in addition to the new developments revealed by Rajaion. ~squiggles~ The door to Rajaion’s chamber opened, and in the doorway stood Soren, with Ike just behind him. The entire room full of international leaders turned to look. Ena quickly turned back to Rajaion and gently roused him, whispering, “He’s back.” The black dragon blinked himself to alertness and made an effort to sit up straighter on the bed. But before he could address his nephew, Soren broke the silence. “I’m sorry about my behavior earlier. That was inappropriate.” His tone was stiff and formal. Ike poked him subtly to prompt him to enter the room, and then closed the door once they were both through. “No, I am sorry. My revelation must have come as quite a shock to you.” Rajaion replied. Though his words were formal, his eyes betrayed how much he cared. Elincia got up from her seat, advancing towards Soren with arms outstretched. “Oh, Soren! You must feel so overwhelmed right now!” She wrapped him in a warm hug—to which the sage didn’t respond in the slightest except for the downward quirk of his mouth. She pulled back, holding him by the shoulders as she continued, “I know I was, back when I first discovered that I was the heir to Crimea. But you were one of the people who helped me to come to terms with that, and learn the necessary skills to govern, and win my country back! It’s the least I could do to return the favor and give you the same support you have always given me.” She hugged him again, quickly, before stepping back and beaming at him. Soren was admittedly a little floored by her emphatics, and took a moment to phrase a proper answer. His eyes flicked over to the other occupants of the room briefly. “Thank you for your kind offer, Queen Elincia, but I don’t believe that will be necessary. I do not plan on making a bid for the Daein throne.” Quiet gasps came from a few of the assembled dignitaries. “Are you sure, Soren?” Ranulf asked, concerned. “It is your birthright, not to mention you’ve earned it through conquest.” “And those two reasons are exactly why I don’t want to,” the Branded replied, shaking his head ruefully. “I’ve spent my entire life trying to dispense with my ‘birthright.’ And no one in Daein ever wanted me to have it, either. My first memories are of Gallia, and I made my home in Crimea. I have never felt any connection to Daein, other than spending the past year planning its downfall and killing off its soldiers. I don’t think that the Daein people would take kindly to having me as their king, all things considered.” “What will you do, then?” Prince Reyson queried. The sage turned to look at his best friend as he answered. “Go back to being a mercenary, of course. I hear it’s all the rage for people who are looking to ditch their noble titles.” He said it completely straight-faced, with only a raised eyebrow, but Ike smiled and laughed aloud at his joke. Author's Note: Conclusion So, what do you think of the fic ending there? I do also want to do a follow-up fic about how the end of Radiant Dawn would change based on this, but I haven't written any of that. I have some cool ideas, though.